


There are a Few Things I Could Never Believe

by BigScaryDinos



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Derogatory Language, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gun Violence, Handcuffs, Hostage Situations, M/M, Mindfuck, Murder, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, One Shot, Ramsay Bolton is His Own Warning, Shooting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:33:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29966442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigScaryDinos/pseuds/BigScaryDinos
Summary: Modern AU where Theon and Ramsay have a history; Ramsay has a hard time letting go. Ramsay shows up and anyone inside Theon's house is in danger.AKA : Oh poor Robb.
Relationships: Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	There are a Few Things I Could Never Believe

“Come on princess, you should be fucking awake by now. Don’t act like such an entitled little asshole.” Theon woke to the words purred dangerously inside his ear with a hand knotted in his hair. The calloused fingers were pulling, tugging, just begging to rip the strands out at the root. The moment they were finally torn away felt like some kind of disgusting relief; this sensation of his head feeling lighter. Theon sighed, letting his head sag forward - his eyes still shut against the person he knew was waiting for him. 

For all his years of living on the edge of danger he’d never been in this exact position, this situation being so strange and distant he found himself empty of ideas. It was different when he had seen Ramsay every day, saw the insanity spreading like a disease inside the brain taking more and more the person he used to know. He hadn’t seen this man in at least a year. He didn’t even know where he was, all he could smell was Ramsay - sickening and sweet all over again. The chemical trails of the younger man lingered inside his nose, but then again ever since the two had crossed paths it seemed like Ramsay was all that Theon could smell. Even his mouth was tainted.Blood and bile filled his mouth, but that too was a sick reminder of Ramsay. Theon’s whole world was wrapped around Ramsay. 

“Oh, so you’re finally awake. Right, well if I were you I’d open my eyes before something worse happens.” Ramsay’s voice was as raspy as ever and only a bit further away from his eardrum. It was as if he’d been screaming for hours on end - knowing how far gone he’d been the last time they met, it wouldn’t be a stretch to picture it. Ramsay driving for miles only to park on a cliff and howl to the moon until he couldn’t even talk. Somewhere in the background the noise had started again. Tom Waits played ever so softly. A soundtrack to the night of horror Theon knew was awaiting him. 

“Sorry about this, really I am. I just can’t trust you. You have to get that, this is your house after all. You know where everything is. I turn my back and fucking bam - I get shot in the back of my goddamn skull because you keep a gun in the dishwasher or some bullshit. That’s not how I want to go out, okay? Alright? If you’ve got home field advantage you don’t think I’m going to give up and let you win right?” This short monologue is punctuated by a hoarse laugh while Theon’s wide watery eyes struggle to adapt to the dim lighting. Ramsay is telling the truth, it is his house only drenched in darkness. 

He’s in the kitchen, but Ramsay seems to have left in the span of Theon waking up and finally opening his eyes - his laugh trickles off someplace just out of sight. Theon finds he’s handcuffed, thick real cuffs - the kind the police have are currently locking him to his oven. There’s a thick metal bar just as unwilling to give across the front of the appliance which he’s finding he regrets ever having purchased in the first place. His legs ache from the unusual position, resting on his calves on the hard tile floor. He moves himself around so he’s flat on his ass while testing his thin shackled wrists with an experimental tug; the oven refuses to give. 

“Really? You think I’d go through all this trouble just to chain you up with a pair of shitty cuffs I got at one of those cheap sex shops? Don’t you know me at all?” Another raspy laugh, someplace in the background the sad truth filters into the kitchen from the living room.

_I don’t believe you can go to Heaven when you’re good. Everything goes to Hell..._

“If that’s not the truth I don’t know what is…” Theon shuts his eyes for a second, only one second but when they open Ramsay’s face is filling the void in front of him. It seems in the time that they’ve been apart he’s lost weight. His face is thinner but if anything the sharp angles only serve to make him look more dangerous. Theon isn’t even sure how he could have crept in so quickly without a sound. It was only a second. Is he that easy to predict? 

Ramsay leans forward, tucking a stray curl behind Theon’s ear. Going further, his face looming dangerously close.Theon wants to pull away but with the heavy appliance behind him he has no place to go. A horrible electrical buzz flows between them, this static energy in the air. Theon shivers, all he wants to do is run. Hide. Escape. He can’t help tugging his wrists against the handcuffs again, still without any give. The thin wrists protest silently but nothing happens, nothing changes. 

“You are so goddamn special. You don’t even know. You don’t even understand. You stupid fucking cunt.” Ramsay’s version of sweet talk while he places a slow, long lick covering Theon’s earlobe. Theon wants to scream but doesn’t want to give Ramsay the pleasure. Doesn’t want to say anything. He wants to pull away but when he finds fingers pulling his head backwards and lips suck below his Adam’s apple he can’t help the way his spine arches, betraying him. 

“Look how easy you are. You’re so disgusting.” Ramsay chuckled against the flesh under his mouth. Ramsay was an all consuming wave in the thick of the ocean and Theon was the target, he shut his eyes for a second. He tried to relax. He needed to relax, there was no way he could show weakness but it had already been spotted. “I broke into your home. I knocked you out. I fucking handcuffed you so you couldn’t get away, and you’re enjoying this?” Theon felt terrified. He couldn’t fight him, couldn’t refuse him. There was no way out. Nothing so easy as getting up and leaving. Theon had learned long ago he had to adapt to get by. It was all enough to live inside this moment, feeling the heat from Ramsay’s mouth consuming him, too easy to get lost while Ramsay’s lips worked against his skin creating a delicious suction; the ice cold chill of metal behind him - but then it was all broken. 

A scream pierced through the night, even stilling Ramsay in his tracks. It had come from the dining room, loud and raucous cutting through the darkness in the room like a blade. If the door from the kitchen to the adjacent room was open Theon would be able to spot Robb sitting there; strapped to one of the heavy oak chairs, now screaming and awake. His mouth a wide O of horror after finding himself in a similar position to Theon’s. The screaming never stopped, just continued to rise in volume higher and higher until it seemed like the noise would never go away. 

“Fucking Christ. Doesn’t he know you’ve got neighbors that are probably trying to sleep? What a little crybaby. I’ll be back in a second.” Ramsay untangles himself from Theon all his sticky limbs and skin finally far enough away that Theon can breath if only for a second. Attempt to gather his mind into one collective thought. The new horror of Ramsay walking away from Theon and to see Robb. A horrifying feeling that the nightmare was only getting started. “Don’t be going anywhere now.” There’s a soft tap against Theon’s nose. It’s so light that it can’t be anything but a warning. When Ramsay finally drags himself out of the room he leaves the door open. 

From his location on the floor with just a slight shuffle to the left Theon could spot about half of what was going on in the other room. There sat Robb, his own hair plastered to his face as if he’d been dripping buckets of sweat. The young man was screaming, nothing calming or slowing even as Theon heard Ramsay’s whispered words blending into the background noise. It seemed the whole world was breaking into pieces. Theon knew Ramsay well enough to know screaming the way Robb was wouldn’t help his case - even if the neighbors heard anything. Even if the neighbors called the police or came rushing over themselves nothing was going to stop Ramsay. It was always going to be too late; the best chance you could have with the bastard was to shut up, go along with his games. Suffer in silence, scream on cue, stop when his face screwed up into a tight mask of irritation. 

“Stop. Stop it.” Theon’s voice was barely audible over the music, the screaming, the noises inside the house drowning his timid voice down further and further. “Robb. Robb stop. Stop now. Please Robb. He doesn’t want you. Shut up. Do what he wants.” These words eked out a little louder, but not by much at all. The warnings seemed contained to the kitchen - unable to make it through the door frame. If they were heard it was ignored, fallen on deaf ears. Theon could see half of Robb’s face; one massive moon so wet and shining inside the darkness. He’s looking without seeing, Robb’s never been in this position, never been tied to a chair, unable to move. He’s never clearly never been held hostage, never threatened by a psychopath. 

When the muffled gunshot slices into the darkness it’s Theon’s turn to start screaming. Not timid - real honest to god echoes of Robb’s screams. Theon shuts his mouth after a few seconds of indulgence himself in his cries. Robb’s eye opens just a fraction larger - just for a second. His voice stops, cut away as if it’s time to roll the credits. Call the scene. His head lolls forward. It’s too dark to see the blood but Theon knows it’s there. The horror that lives inside of him battles with this new overwhelming grief. A guilt bone deep begins to take root in his body. 

Theon can’t help but shut his eyes, he wants to keep them open. Cement all of Robb’s last seconds of life into his mind. Robb deserves that much at the very least. It’s all Theon’s fault after all that Ramsay is here in the first place. All he can do is shut his eyes, feeling guilt wracking his body, this aching miserable sorrow flowing into him, this anger that eats dangerously inside his heart. _Weak. I’m so weak._ Pressing himself against the oven until his back screamed in protest from the cool metal. The whole house is like a crypt save for the same sad songs playing again and again. 

The album is on it’s second repeat by the time Ramsay walks back into the kitchen, looking pleased with himself, he cleans his gore stained fingers with a grey cloth. A passing car’s headlights light up the room through the window above Theon’s head and in the illumination it’s easy to see the object slowly growing more red by the second is actually Robb’s tie. The one he wore to work today. Theon wants to vomit, shutting his head and tilting his head backwards to rest towards the ceiling. He can hear Ramsay’s angry stride across the room that feels like it’s shrinking by the second. 

Eyes closed it’s barely a sting across the face when he feels the palm meet his skin. Theon feels so out of himself that it’s hard to react, hard to be concerned with bruises if he knew he was going to live to see any room other than his kitchen for the remainder of his life. What did Robb think in his last seconds. Did he think he could save himself. Did he see Theon sitting there, cuffed and on the floor just as helpless. Did he wonder what the hell was going on. 

“Open your eyes. Look at me. I need to talk to you.” Ramsay’s voice is hard, forceful, demanding. Something that requires complete obedience. Theon’s eyes opened reluctantly as if some outside force was pulling his lids apart. Again with the closeness, Ramsay was positioned perfectly to block out everything but himself from the older man’s view. “I was in Central America, you know? I was on vacation. But I left. I came here. Somebody told me you were here and you know what, I miss you. I miss that you ran. I miss that you’re still running.” Whispering like they were in a crowded room with a dirty secret instead of a house in the middle of a ghost town. Theon had to strain to hear him over the soft distant music, or maybe it’s just the sound of the blood inside his head sloshing around. 

When Ramsay turns away to snatch something from the table, Theon can spot the handle of the gun sticking out from the back of his jeans. It’s a do or die moment and Theon restlessly tried to shake himself loose, pry the bar off the oven. The attempt vastly unsuccessful and far too loud causing Ramsay to spin back on his heels in a second, lowering himself much closer to the ground so he can press his body into Theon’s. 

“I know those cuffs won’t give.You know those cuffs won’t give. I love it when you fight. You’re like a butterfly stuck in a web.You are so fucking pathetic. Why do you try? What are you going to do?” Theon struggles once he feels the still blood sticky fingers touch his chin. 

Without his arms, Theon could only kick and without enough space to get any kind of leverage was only able to land his heel against Ramsay’s right shin. It seemed to do the trick, at least for a second. Ramsay was pushed back a few short inches, his eyes betrayed the cold emotionless monster he was to widen in shock for a moment. There had to be pain, something there no matter what Ramsay showed, already recovering his cool exterior. Theon had heard the sound of his boot connecting with the kneecap and knew it had to have hurt but Ramsay only laughed while he leaned forward again pressing his arms on either side of Theon. 

“I should have taken those boots off you. Well I knew my little bitch would put up a fight, you always used to. Next time you’ll be lucky you’ve got anything on. Can’t be trusted you dirty little - ” 

“You are a sick fucker. I fucking hate you.” With no ability left to fight all Theon would do was spew words at the man who hovered so close to his face he could see the pores on his nose. There are no words that can hurt Ramsay, not really. Nothing Theon can say will touch him. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. What’s left in Theon’s life is minutes, maybe seconds. At this point of the game it’s more about last words than bargaining. 

“Are you thinking about if I’m going to kill you?” Ramsay breathed, his sharp copper smell sticking inside Theon’s nose like church incense. A nod wouldn’t suffice but there was no kind of answer for this question. Nothing right at least, only to let Ramsay tell his story however he wanted to to the audience he demanded. “Do you really think I did all this just to put a bullet right here?” His finger plants a dot of drying red between Theon’s eyes. “When there’s so much more of you to enjoy?” 

Ramsay’s fingers are grabbing at Theon’s hips, pulling his legs apart like twigs. The older man attempts to knock his knees together, keep them shut tight but Ramsay’s always been stronger. It doesn’t take much to force them apart, to either side of Ramsay’s body, wedged between them as if he’s always fit there. Holding onto the hips he yanks upwards, straining Theon’s already sore body into a contorted position and pulling him closer so his ass is resting firmly against Ramsay’s crotch. Even through the two layers of jeans between them it’s obvious the younger man is hard, pressing himself against Theon’s ass and grinding into him. Theon feels the pop of joints in his shoulders, the force of those strong hands holding him in place. 

Theon felt the gun then. Much larger than the one he carried, he could feel the barrel poking underneath his boney hip, then the dragging sensation as the gun ran from his hip to rest between his ribs. He could just imagine the angry red mark it was leaving on his body. With the exception of his now dead friend in the other room this felt like a mirror imagine to the last time he’d seen Ramsay. He had been tied down, a gun pointed to his chest, the threat of death hanging over his head.

“Fully loaded, well except for one round now thanks to your friend out there. Robb right? That was his name.” A chuckle, an obscene smile that didn’t exactly fit on his face quite right and then bringing the gun up again, past his ribs, his chest, to rest just below Theon’s chin. 

“I can kill you know. Right this very second.” Theon’s pulse pounded like a war drum inside his chest, his eyes open and locked onto Ramsay’s icy blue eyes. Searching for some kind of trace of the Ramsay he had first met years ago when they would sit on the roof of their apartment and share a beer. Play cards. Talk about which girls that hung around the bar down the road were good and which were just total shit. That man was gone, so far away that it didn’t even seem to be the same person. Not now, not ever. 

“But I can’t. You know why?” The gun was removed, but not put away, the eye contact wasn’t lost, no breath was released from either party, waiting for the answer from the other. “Because, I want to catch you. Really catch you. Not just catch you sitting here at home like a fucking sitting duck. I want you to run. Run as fast as you can and if I catch up with you...” This was the time when Ramsay held up a key, a smell silver thing that looked like it would perfectly fit the cuffs. 

“You know, before I leave your prints will be all over this gun. Everything will tie you to Robb’s death. If you go to the police you’ll be a criminal. You’re going to be a fucking murderer, Theon. How will you be able to explain yourself? Theon I think...” Ramsay trailed off leaning forward again, this time aiming for the lips instead of the ear to plant a gentle peck on Theon’s lips. So chaste it was frightening but it was enough to take Theon by surprise so that when Ramsay brought the gun up and smashed the front of Theon’s unsuspecting face hard enough to knock him clear out it came as a total shock. 

This time there were no thoughts going into the blackness, just a sick fear and some kind of dizzying feeling flooding his body, making him hot and cold and disappointed in himself and scared for his sanity.


End file.
